


Going the Distance

by BaalRane



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Boxing, Drug Use, F/F, Gambling, Illegal Activities, Major Character Injury, Sexual Content, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-22
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-16 17:32:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8111164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BaalRane/pseuds/BaalRane
Summary: Clarke is a struggling med student and Octavia is her best friend (and roommate) who finds her a new job to help pay the bills. The only problem is it’s as a ringside doctor for an illegal underground boxing league. There she meets Lexa, a mysterious woman who makes her job very difficult in more ways than one.





	1. Part One

 

 

Octavia first suggests it after the winter holidays. Clarke had been so busy reviewing journals for her internal medicine rotation, that she didn’t hear her friend the first time.

 

“Clarke.”

 

“Octavia, not now. You know I need to review this. That asshole resident I told you about nearly threw me out of the room for mispronouncing Alport Disease.”

 

“Clarke.”

 

“Octavia, If I had time to chat, I’d get a part time job so we could stop living like animals in this f-“

 

“Clarke, shut up and _listen_ for Christ’s sake, I’m trying to help you.”

 

Clarke looks up from her reading material, wearing an exasperated expression on her face. The bags under her eyes have become more noticeable in recent weeks, the result of long shifts, often in excess of thirty hours.

 

“Unless you’ve discovered a way to win the lottery, I don’t think you can help me.”

 

Octavia smiles and wiggles her eyebrows, “Better. I have a job for you.”

 

Clarke throws her hands up and snorts in disbelief, “I can’t believe you. Do you even listen to me?” She yells, her voice a shrill squawk of indignation, “I just _told_ you I don’t have time for another job!”

  

Octavia simply continues to smile patiently as she waits for Clarke’s outburst to subside, clearly accustomed to frequent torrents of fury from her roommate.

 

“What if I told you that it was only for a few hours twice a month on Saturdays and you’d be paid twenty five hundred each time?”

 

“Octavia, I’m not taking my clothes off if that wh-"

 

“Shut up and listen. There’s this amateur boxing event that my brother organizes twice a month. A ringside physician would cost him a lot more and I mentioned that you might be willing to help him for much less. His last doctor moved out of the state because of family issues and they really need someone to fill in.”

 

“Octavia, I’m not a doctor yet.”

 

“I understand that, but you’d be able to stop the fights before they got too serious. You get to make the calls and also pocket some cash.”

 

“I really don’t know-

 

“Just think about it.”

 

Clarke mulls over it for a week before she reaches a decision after her and Octavia discover that they have a roach infestation. Their landlord refuses to acknowledge the problem when they knock on his door at 1 am, both women barefoot and in tears, having been woken up by a cluster of roaches crawling over them in the middle of the night.

 

“We have got to move out of here,” Clarke sighs on their way back from the store, each carrying a bag of roach traps and bug spray that neither can afford.

 

“About that gig I told you about with Bellamy…”

 

“I’m in.”

 

***

  

They hop on the train the next Friday, Clarke fidgeting the entire way. When they leave the station, Octavia leads her to an old warehouse ten minutes away.

 

“This isn’t creepy at all,” Clarke complains. “I’m really getting a bad feeling about this.”

 

“Relax,” Octavia grins and jerks open a door on the far side of the building.

 

Inside, the building looks less daunting. There are bright lights overhead, circling a large ring in the center of the space. On the left side there are multiple chairs, half of them stacked over each other, while the others are arranged in a semicircle around the ring. Several tall men work to set up the chairs in the remaining space while a tall dark-haired boy that Clarke instantly recognizes as Octavia’s brother Bellamy yells out instructions. He notices them approach and immediately breaks into a smile.

 

“Clarke! I’m so glad you’re here,” Bellamy smiles. “Welcome to Underground Heroes.”

 

Clarke smiles politely, still clearly uncomfortable with the entire arrangement.

 

“You too Bellamy, thanks.”

 

“Let me introduce you to my partner,” he says and calls out towards someone in the back of the room.

 

A pale anxious-looking man with a filthy ripped t-shirt, hanging loosely over his skinny frame, approaches them. His eyes wild and roaming, his face gaunt and covered in dust. Clarke wondered if he was truly Bellamy’s partner, or a street urchin he had picked up as a hired hand.

 

“Clarke this is Murphy,” Bellamy gestured, “Murphy, Clarke is the new ringside doctor I hired.”

 

Murphy simply nods at her and turns his head towards Bellamy.

 

“Woods is insisting on fighting next Saturday.”

 

Bellamy shoots him a look. “We’ll talk about that later. Let’s get our new doctor adjusted.”

 

Murphy nods slowly, his eyes still on Bellamy as he extends his arm to Clarke, “Let me show you around,” He says and leads her to the center of the room with Bellamy and Octavia following closely behind.

 

The tour takes fifteen minutes. Aside from the main hall, there are three small rooms in the building. Two separate dressing rooms, aptly named A and B, to separate fighters before and after the bouts and a medical office, which Bellamy cheekily called her office, for pre and post fight checkups. Murphy, Clarke learns from a chatty Bellamy, works construction during the day and helped set up Grounder Hall for Underground Heroes. 

 

“He got this place fixed up and ready to use in less than a mom,” Bellamy says proudly, slapping his hand across Murphy’s back. Clarke worries the scrawny boy will crumble from the impact but instead, Murphy shoots Bellamy an annoyed glance and twists away from the unwanted contact. “Not cool man.”

 

Clarke thinks for a minute and then asks, “I don’t want to sound ungrateful but why hire a medical professional at all?” Octavia looks appalled by the question but Clarke continues, “Aren’t there guys you can hire that can stitch up fighters and help reduce their swelling in the ring?”

 

“Cutmen,” Bellamy nods, “Those are meant to keep fighters in the right longer. We don’t want that. We take safety very seriously here. We just want to give people an outlet for their stress but we don’t want anyone to get hurt,” Bellamy says solemnly.

 

“But you host an event where people hit each other Bellamy, people are going to get hurt,” Clarke points out.

 

Bellamy laughs and looks over at Murphy, who still looks restless, before turning back to Clarke.

  

“Yeah, but we have rules. Before we get to that, any questions?”

 

“A few,’ Clarke replies. “Who owns this building?”

 

“An investor,” Bellamy says, “You will meet them eventually. We call this Grounder Hall.”

  

Clarke nods, satisfied with his response. “Octavia said I would have final say on who is healthy enough to compete?”

 

“Yes,” Bellamy nods eagerly, “Absolutely.”

 

“And I have the authority to stop the fights whenever I feel the fighter’s life is in danger?”

 

“Of course,” Bellamy smiles. “

 

“Try telling that to Woods,” Murphy snorts, causing both of them to twist their heads in his direction.

  

“I’m sorry?” Clarke looks at both Bellamy and Murphy. “Woods is?”

 

“A passionate fighter,” Bellamy replies quickly, shooting Murphy a scathing glance, “It won’t be an issue. Murphy just likes to joke around.”

 

Clarke looks at Murphy who shrugs his shoulders.

 

Bellamy clears his throat.  “Should we go over the rules?”

   

***

 

 The rules were fairly straightforward but long.

  

_1\. You cannot hit your opponent in the face, back, or the back of the head or neck or on the kidneys.  
_

 

_2\. You cannot hit below the belt, hold, trip, kick, head-butt, wrestle, bite, spit on, or push your opponent._

 

_3\. You cannot hit with your head, shoulder, forearm, or elbow, legs, knees or feet.  
_

 

_4\. You cannot throw a punch while holding on to the ropes to gain leverage.  
_

 

_5\. You can't hold your opponent and hit them at the same time  
_

 

_6\. You cannot hit on the break: When the referee breaks you from a clinch you cannot immediately hit your opponent_

 

_7\. You cannot spit out your mouthpiece on purpose to get a rest.  
_

 

_8\. If you score a knockdown of your opponent, you must go to the farthest neutral corner while the referee makes the count.  
_

 

_9\. You cannot hit your opponent while they are on the floor  
_

 

_10\. There is a ten second count for fighters to get back up.  
_

 

_12\. A fighter who is hit with an accidental low blow has up to five minutes to recover.  
_

 

_13\. If the foul results in an injury that causes the fight to end immediately, the fighter who committed the foul is disqualified.  
_

 

_14\. If a fighter is knocked out of the ring, they get a count of 20 to get back in and on their feet. They cannot be assisted._

  

“It’s really just like boxing,” Bellamy says, “But we don’t let the fighters hit each other in the face.”

  

“That’s good,” Clarke nods, “I’m surprised the fighters are okay with that.”

 

“Well, we have a lot of different clients but most of them can’t show up to work with a bruised face.”

 

“Are these just normal people that want to fight?” Clark asks.

 

“Oh yeah,” Bellamy nods, “You’ll even see a few famous faces.”

  

“What?”

 

“There are crazy people everywhere,” Murphy laughs. “The money isn’t even worth it.”

 

“They aren’t crazy,” Bellamy frowns, “They just need to let off some steam.”

  

“What money?” Clarke asks. “I thought they were fighting for fun?”

 

“Most of them are but we do offer a purse per fight,” Bellamy replies, “It’s not much though, only five hundred a fight.”

  

“Five hundred a fight is a lot to me,” Octavia blurts out. “Sign me up!”

 

Bellamy glares at her. “Out of the question.”

 

“Oh, so you get to fight and I don’t?” Octavia shoots back.

 

“Seriously?” Clarke raises an eyebrow. “You fight?”

 

“Seriously,” Bellamy answers, “But not as often as I’d like these days since starting my own business.

  

“How can you afford to pay the fighters that much?” Clarke asks.

  

“We charge for admission,” Murphy answers, “Twenty five dollars a head plus a hundred percent markup on drinks and snacks.”

  

“And that’s enough to make money?” Octavia asks.

 

“Yeah,” Murphy laughs, “This place looks like crap but we had about a thousand people in here last time.”

 

“What?” Clarke startles, “Can this venue even fi-”

  

“Capacity here is twenty five hundred,” Bellamy cuts her off, “We have papers from the fire department after a building inspection.”

 

“Wait, they know?”

 

“They know that this is a brand new boxing _gym_ ,” Murphy smirks, “A gym that is very popular on weekends.”

 

“Are there other…Clubs like this one?” Clarke asks.

  

“Yeah,” Bellamy hesitates, “But it was a bad crowd and a lot of good people who didn’t need to get hurt did.” He looks away, clearly upset at the topic and Clarke quickly changes course.

 

“Who referees each match?” Clarke asks. 

 

“Do you remember the guy I have been seeing,” Octavia pipes up, “Lincoln. He does.”

 

“You don’t really have to worry about any of this,” Bellamy cuts in, clearly annoyed by any talk of who his sister is dating, “All you have to worry about is whether the fighters are well enough to fight. I’ll need you ringside during each fight to make sure we keep everything safe.”

 

Clarke hesitates. “I’ll need a list of supplies and equipment…”

 

“Just let us know what you need and we’ll have it here for you before each fight.”

 

“And I’ll need some help. Taking care of a few fighters is one thing, but a venue full of a thousand people is another. Maybe an assistant. I have a few friends that are EMTs...”

 

“Done,” Bellamy replies quickly, “But we can’t afford to pay them the same rate. We can do thirty an hour. I’m sure that’s more than they’re getting right now.”

 

“And I need up to date blood tests for HIV, Hepatitis B and C and negative pregnancy tests.”

  

Bellamy looks uncertain, “People won’t be happy sharing that information…”

 

“Do you want me to do my job and protect you and your fighters?”

 

Bellamy immediately apologizes, “You’re right. Anything you need.”

 

“Ok,” Clarke nods slowly before adding, “I’m in.”

 

Bellamy smiles widely and throws a friendly arm around her shoulders.

 

“Welcome to the team Clarke.” 

 

***

   

Saturday comes sooner than expected. Bellamy had asked her to arrive at Grounder Hall by 2 pm to begin prep work. Although she returned home from rounds before midnight the night before, she had been unable to sleep.  She reviews the medical record and blood test results Bellamy had sent over for Saturday’s fighters. Three women and three men, all between the ages of twenty-two and thirty and in good medical condition. 

 

In the morning she forces herself to eat despite the nervous flips in her stomach.  Octavia alternatively seems eager to attend. Bellamy had only agreed to invite her on Clarke’s insistence.

 

“I don’t know why he’s being so stupid,” Octavia grumbles while furiously devouring her cereal. “I’m not a child anymore.”

  

“You are not,” Clarke agrees absentmindedly, her mind still on her new job.

  

They ride the train in silence. Clarke goes back and forth between telling Octavia she can’t go through with it and convincing herself that the money will really help.

 

When they arrive at Grounder Hall, Bellamy is furiously arguing with a tall, slender brunette.  The woman is dressed in matching black rashguard shirt and shorts, her hair pulled back into a messy bun on the top of her head. While Clarke debates whether to approach them, Bellamy realizes her presence and turns to her.

 

“Clarke, you’re right on time,” Bellamy ushers her over.

  

She approaches slowly, not blind to the clear look of annoyance on the other woman’s face. As Clarke nears, she realizes the woman’s face is marred in cuts and bruises. The injuries, however, do nothing to hide how remarkably beautiful she is.

 

“Clarke, this is Lexa Woods,” Bellamy introduces, “Our generous investor and an active participant in our fights.” 

 

“Nice to meet you.” Clarke extends her hand for the other woman to shake but receives a cool glance instead.

 

Lexa turns back to Bellamy. “Is this the medical student you hired to tell me what I can and can’t do?”

  

Bellamy sighs, “Lexa please. I’m not comfortable with you going back into the ring until we have you checked out.”

 

Confused and a little annoyed at her treatment, Clarke tries again, “Bellamy, I don’t remember a Lexa Woods in the list of fighters you provided me.”

 

Lexa turns back towards her, green eyes flashing. “I didn’t just spend ten thousand dollars on new medical equipment for a _college student_ to tell me whether or not I can fight in my own gym.”

 

Bellamy pleads. “I promised Anya I wouldn’t let you fight if you weren’t ready.”

 

“That wasn’t your decision to make,” Lexa fires back.

 

Bellamy sighs. “Lexa just let her give you a check up.”

 

Behind him, Clarke sees Octavia approach the group, alerted by the sound of raised voices.

 

“It’s my own damn fault for hiring my cousin’s _sex friend_ to run my business.” Lexa seeths and stands up while a horrified Bellamy tries to avoid his sister’s inquiring face. A few moments pass before she turns to Clarke.

 

“Well?”

 

Clarke turns, “Sorry?”

 

“Are you going to do your job or not?” Lexa asks. “I need to begin stretching soon.” She starts walking towards the back of the room, where the medical office was located.

 

She looks at Bellamy who tries (and fails) to give her a reassuring look before she hurries to follow the other woman.

 

Inside the medical office, she finds Lexa standing with her arms crossed, still clearly irritated.

 

 _Whatever,_ Clarke tells herself. _It’s a job, and you need the money. You can’t let some angry rich bitch get in the way of things._

 

Clarke steps towards the desk at the end of the room where an unusually large diagnosis kit has been placed. She opens it up to find everything she could possibly need: A stethoscope, sphygmomanometer cuffs and infrared thermometer, pulse oximeter, reflex hammer even an AED, oxygen and nebulizers. She eyes the small torch and picks it up along with the stethoscope, which she places around her neck, and picks up the sphygmomanometer cuffs. She walks over to where Lexa is still standing; now checking her phone.

 

“Please take a seat,” Clarke gestures towards the examination table and for a moment Lexa almost looks like she might refuse but instead quietly makes her way over and sits down. 

 

Clarke pulls out the little torch. “Follow my fingers.”

 

Lexa simply stares at her for a few seconds and Clarke almost asks again but the other woman complies. When Clarke’s done and satisfied, she takes a step back.

 

“I thought striking the face wasn’t permitted during fights.” She casually states.

 

Lexa answers slowly. “It isn’t.”

 

“Then how did you get these marks?” Clarke leans in to examine the grazes and bruises strewn all over Lexa’s neck and face. Lexa looks uncomfortable at the proximity and looks away while shrugging at her question.

  

“Sometimes people don’t follow the rules.”

 

“You?” Clarke probes. “Or someone else?”

 

“Someone else,” Lexa responds, still studying the other side of the room.

 

Clarke goes back to the desk and picks up the reflex hammer. “I’ll need your recent medical records if I’m going to clear you to fight.”

 

Lexa looks back at her but doesn’t respond. Clarke thinks about asking again but walks back over and kneels down in front of her.

 

Lexa stiffens immediately and Clarke laughs. “I just need to test your reflexes, don’t be afraid.”

 

“I’m not afraid. I just like being warned before-“

 

“Any sudden movements?” Clarke finishes, smiling, “Fighting might not be the right thing for you then.” 

 

To her astonishment the corner of Lexa’s mouth lifts slightly, “It _is_ the perfect thing for me. Nothing is sudden.”

 

Clarke scoffs, “You can anticipate someone’s movement before it happens? Do you have a superpower I don’t know about?”

 

Lexa continues to look amused, finally looking into Clarke’s eyes. “Perhaps.” 

 

Clarke takes advantage of her relaxed state to swing the hammer into Lexa’s knee, eliciting the desired reflex. “Good,” Clarke says continuing her work. 

 

Clarke reaches over and places her hand around Lexa’s thigh, around the underside of her knee, ignoring the other woman’s sudden jerk against the touch and taps the hammer into her own hand. Lexa’s leg feels smooth and warm to touch and Clarke internally chides herself for being so unprofessional.

 

She decides to test Lexa’s hands and arms as well, nodding in approval every time she receives the anticipated response. 

 

“Great,” Clarke says while taking a step back. “Could you please remove your shirt?”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

As a medical student Clarke had become desensitized to nudity, so much so that a patient’s modesty had become more of an annoyance than a concern. She wonders then, why the blush that creeps up Lexa’s neck has elicited a reaction from her own body. She pulls out the stethoscope and places the earpieces in her ear and raises the bell.

 

“I need to listen to your lungs.”

 

She can feel Lexa stare at her for a long moment before reaching for her shirt. Clarke looks away and taps the chest piece lightly against her fingers and hears the familiar thud confirming its functionality.

 

Clarke looks back and finds Lexa shirtless and fidgeting on the bed. Her arms are crossed against her chest.  

 

“I’m going to listen to your heart,” Clarke says reassuringly, “This will feel cold but it’ll be over quickly.”

 

Lexa reluctantly removes her arms away from her chest. Clarke pauses at the sight of multiple bruises and scattered lacerations over the other woman’s. She reaches out to touch the most severe one, a cut several inches below the left collarbone. Clarke looks down and realizes Lexa has been staring at her.

 

“Are these from your last fight?” Clark asks as she  as she places the chest piece lightly against the left side of Lexa’s sternum. Her heart beat is loud and a little too fast but not unusual for someone who has been training for a fight a short time ago. 

  

“Yes,” Lexa replies, still looking up at her. Clarke realizes her other hand is still pressed against the cut on Lexa’s chest and quickly removes it before moving to listen to the right side of her chest. 

 

“These are extensive. The fight should have been stopped a lot earlier than it was.”

 

Lexa shrugs. “It wasn't.”

 

Clarke shakes her head in disbelief and moves the stethoscope to the center of Lexa’s collarbone. She listens for a few moments and realizes that Lexa’s heartbeat had slowed to a normal rate.

  

“That won’t happen again while I’m here.” She says firmly. Lexa looks at her with a curious expression and says nothing. Clarke 

 

“Do you smoke?” Clarke asks and Lexa shakes her head. 

 

“Just turn around so I can listen to your back.” Clarke smiles and raises the stethoscope resonator. “Let’s see if you’re lying. Deep breath in and out please.”

 

Lexa turns slowly and Clarke inhales sharply when she see’s the magnificent tattoo covering the other woman’s back. She fights the urge to reach out and trace it, instead continuing to listen to Lexa’s lungs. When she finishes, she realizes she has been staring for too long.

 

“This is beautiful. Your tattoo.”

 

Lexa turns around to look at her, green eyes startlingly bright. “Thank you.”

 

Clarke looks away and presses the resonator against several areas on the other woman’s chest before she places it back on her left side and lifts her other hand to look at her watch. “Just relax for a minute,” She says softly listening to Lexa’s rate of breathing.

 

Clarke takes the earpieces out of her ear and hangs the stethoscope back around her neck, trying to avoid looking directly at Lexa’s chest.

 

“Your lungs sound excellent. Definitely not a smoker,” Clarke grins. “Go ahead and put your shirt back on. Just need to check your blood pressure and we’re all set.”

 

Lexa nods and Clarke wondered how the vicious woman from before had dissolved into such a shy creature.

 

After checking her blood pressure and finding it within an acceptable range, she nods and steps away.

 

Lexa gets up off the bed. “Are we done? Am I cleared to fight?”

 

“Sure,” Clarke said, “Once I’ve received your medical records.”

  

Lexa gives her a long look before responding. “I’ll have someone deliver them to you.”

 

“Great,” Clarke smiles and nods; “I’ll see you later.”

 

“Thank you Doctor Griffin.”

 

“Please  _Clarke_. Like you said, I’m not a doctor yet.”

 

Lexa pauses for a long moment, her expression unreadable, before the unexpected warmth in her reply, “You _are_ as far as we are concerned,” sends Clarke’s heart fluttering wildly in her chest.  She watches as Lexa makes her way towards the door and surprises herself when she blurts out the words “Good luck!”

 

Lexa, already in between the doorframe, turns her head back towards her and Clarke feels truly helpless against the sudden surge of warmth she feels in her chest when she notices the electric smile in her bright glowing eyes. “Don’t need any. Superpowers.”

  

Clarke remains in place, staring in bewilderment at the closed door before realizing she had been holding her breath so fiercely that she finally releases it with long, gasping sigh.

 

_“Fuck.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Thank you very much for reading my story. This is my first fic so please do not judge me too harshly. I would love feedback because I want to learn to write better and it would be nice to hear if anyone enjoyed this story. It would be nice to have a beta for this, as subsequent chapters will be just as long or longer and it will be difficult to edit by myself.


	2. Part Two

 

 

 The next few hours are busy for Clarke. She meets each of the six fighters individually for their pre fight physicals. Her first, after Lexa, is a tall slim woman with hard features: Impressive cheekbones with shapely hollows beneath and dark, deep-set eyes. Her hair is a sea of dark ringlets around her temples, braided in a circle and falling loosely past her shoulders.

 

 _This woman is a warrior,_ Clarke muses, _someone born to fight._

 

She studies Clarke for a long quiet moment before saying, “You must be the new doc.”

 

Clarke nods, “My name is Clarke Griffin. I’ll be your ringside physician during your fights here at Underground Heroes. I’ll also be performing you pre and post fight exams.”

 

“Is that right?” The other woman drawls, her tone as unreadable as her expression.

 

“You must be...” Clarke pauses to run through the list of the day’s fighter before the other woman interrupts her.

 

“Anya.”

 

“Anya,” Clarke repeats. “Nice to meet you. Shall we get started?”

 

Anya is in top physical condition, her body powerful and muscular despite her slender frame. The look in her eyes is unnerving as she continues to observe Clarke, who tries her best to carry out her examination as confidently as she can, with an untrusting glare, her hooded eyes assessing, measuring.

 

“Bellamy likes you,” The sudden interruption of silence startles Clarke.

 

“Yes, we’ve been family friends for many years. His younger sister Octavia is my best friend.” Clarke finally replies. “We also live together.”

 

The rest of the exam continues without another word. Anya stands afterwards and heads for the door, hesitating just as she places her hand on the handle. Without turning around she says, “Make sure you do your job later today.”

 

“I’m sorry?” Clarke asks, confused.

 

“With Lexa. You’ve met right?”

 

Clarke nods slowly.

 

“I can’t blame you for not being able to stop her from fighting,” Anya says slowly, finally turning around to look Clarke directly in the eyes, “but it’s your job to keep her safe. Don’t let her keep fighting if she shouldn’t be.”

 

“I can promise you I won’t let anyone continue to fight if I believe they are in danger,” Clarke immediately replies. She waits a beat before adding, “If it makes you feel better, I performed her checkup right before yours and she seemed to be in top form.”

 

Anya snorts, “Lexa is great at pretending to be something she’s not. Just do your job and make sure she doesn’t get hurt.” Clarke could heard the unspoken implication in the other woman’s words. _Or else._

 

_Good god, what sort of people have I gotten myself mixed up with?_

 

The rest of the fighters prove to be much less intimidating, at least towards Clarke’s own personal well being.

 

Her next visitor is a stocky young man with warm brown eyes and easy smile. He laughs when she mentions Anya’s visit, removing his baseball cap and exposing an avalanche of rich brown hair that tousles in front of his face several times during their session. His name is Finn, he tells Clarke, and during the week he works at the trendy record store downtown. _Typical._

 

Finn seems nice, but Clarke suspects he might be a _little_ full of himself and when he removes his shirt, to reveal broad shoulders and a sculpted chest, he wiggles his eyebrows at her, all but confirming her suspicions.

 

When he leaves, she meets two more boys, both thin and short for their ages (which she hopes are real and not fake like she predicts their drug results are). They walk in together and excitedly inform her that they will be fighting each other. The lankier one with a pale face and animated eyes is Jasper. Jasper reeks of weed and stale food, his bloodshot eyes giving Clarke a little more to worry about aside from his skeletal frame. His friend (and opponent), “Monty,” he shyly tells Clarke, looks even younger with his bowl-cut straight black hair flawless golden skin. He, at least, looks sober and properly fed.

 

When Clarke asks if they are sure about what they are doing, the two exchange a look and _giggle_.

 

“We have a bet going,” Jasper says and Monty smiles along, “The winner gets dibs on our TV for three whole months!”

 

Clarke rolls her eyes and nudges him with her reflex hammer. “You could have just gone with rocks, paper, scissors.”

 

Jasper shakes his head and looks offended though Monty seems less certain.

 

“ _No_ _way_ , we are _men and we_  handle this like men, not _girls_.”

 

Clarke bristles at the blatant sexism and replies, “I think there are a few _girls_ today that could win TV privileges from both of you. Assuming you survive the first round.” That shuts the pair up for the remaining time, to Clarke’s delight.

 

Her last fighter is a strikingly beautiful woman named Raven. _It must be a trend_ , Clarke thinks to herself, _because Anya is extremely attractive and Lexa_ …Well, Clarke didn’t want to go there again. Raven’s smile is bright and infectious, her skin an ochre shade like the rich brown light that seeps through a forest on a bright summer day. As soon as she introduces herself, Clarke knows that they are going to be friends. Raven’s a mechanic at a luxury car repair and customization shop in the city, Clarke learns. She’s been boxing for years and met Anya a year before at another underground fighting ring.

 

“You’re kind of hot doc,” Raven grins at Clarke when she takes her shirt off so Clarke can examine her, “You single?” Clarke’s only response is to laugh and ask her to turn around.

 

Raven, like Anya and Lexa, is in top physical form but shorter than both women so Clarke is surprised when she tells her she’s fighting Anya today.

 

“She’s a lot bigger than you,” Clarke says slowly, not wanting to offend the other woman.

 

“Yeah but we’re in the same weight class,” Raven chortles, “Anya is a _twig_. I could snap her in two.”

 

Clarke couldn’t imagine anyone snapping Anya in two, let alone the gorgeous Latina in front of her.

 

“Just make sure I don’t hurt her too badly doc,” Raven continues, “She’s actually a pretty good lay.”

 

Clarke giggles and wraps up her assessment, wishing Raven good luck. Alone again in the office, she reviews her notes and realizes one fighter is missing from the group of medical records she had received from Bellamy. _Ontari Azgeda_. She wonders if Lexa has replaced her on the fight ticket.

 

_But if Raven is fighting Anya and Jasper is fighting Monty…_

 

Clarke feels a sharp pain in her chest when she realizes Lexa has been paired up with Finn, who is likely of similar height but looks like he weighs at least thirty pounds more, most of it, by the looks of her earlier inspection, pure _muscle_.

 

She gets up and storms out of the room in search of Bellamy, who she finds deep in conversation with Murphy by the center of the arena.

 

“Can I have a word?” Clarke asks.

 

Bellamy excuses himself and follows Clarke away towards the far end of the hall, behind the main bar. To their left, kegs of beer are being rolled in and stacked against the wall.

 

“What’s up?” Bellamy asks distractedly, watching the staff organize the beer kegs.

 

“How are you letting Lexa fight someone that much bigger than her?” Clarke demands.

 

Bellamy quickly turns to her and slowly begins to laugh, “Don’t worry about Lexa, she’s handled guys much bigger and tougher than Finn.”

 

“This isn’t funny or safe Bellamy. Isn’t that what you hired me to do? Keep the fighters safe?” Clarke asks pointedly, annoyed at his nonchalant attitude.

 

“I _hired_ you to make sure the fighters are healthy enough to fight and to make sure the fight is stopped before anyone gets hurt,” Bellamy replies, “If you think Lexa is getting hurt, you are welcome to stop the fight but I do think she’ll surprise you. She’s one of our best fighters.”

 

Clarke is still unconvinced. “She’s still recovering from her last fight. It looks like you didn’t have much of a handle on that one either.” 

 

At that, Bellamy stops smiling. “We let someone in who shouldn’t have been fighting,” he replies seriously, “but we won’t make that mistake again and Lexa _won_ that fight. You should’ve seen the other guy.”

 

“Fine but I’m pulling the plug as soon as I feel things that are getting out of control.”

 

Bellamy nods, “That’s what we hired you for.”

 

Clarke is silent for a moment and Bellamy turns to leave before she says, “She’s _strange_.”

 

“Who, Lexa?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“She’s not that bad,” Bellamy laughs. “She’s done a lot for me and the team. She’s good people.”

 

“She seems so…so _serious_ all the time,” She finishes.

 

“Well she’s had a tough life. Her and Anya really had to fight to be where they are now.”

 

“Tough how?” Clarke asks curiously. “What does she actually do for a living besides owning an illegal fighting ring?”

 

“Lexa’s past is not my story to share. Maybe she’ll tell you someday,” Bellamy replies seriously, “as for what she does for a living, I would’ve thought you’d have looked her up right after meeting her.”

 

“I don’t stalk people online Bell,” Clarke retorts, irked by his non-answer.

 

“Well you’re asking me now,” He grins but stops when he see’s her irate expression. “She’s the CEO of a biotech start-up. I’m sure you’ve heard of it. _Orman Genomics_?”

 

“She runs it?!” Clarke asks, startled. The company was informous in the medical industry. It’s product, _Bios Agora,_ enables genome and DNA academics to work together, investigate, and retrieve current information through a quick, inexpensive platform.

 

“She built it herself actually,” Bellamy grins, “She’s a _fucking_ genius.”

 

“But she’s so _young_ ,” Clarke says in disbelief, “She must’ve been an infant when she started it!”

 

“She was nineteen and already a senior at MIT. That was eight years ago.”

 

“How do you know all this?”

 

“Anya told me,” Bellamy shrugs, “We hang out sometimes.”

 

“Oh Lexa _did_ mentioned that,” Clarke shoots him a cheeky smile, “Sex friend she called it?”

 

Bellamy scratches the stubble on his chin sheepishly, “We have some fun from time to time.”

 

“Rough life,” Clarke laughs.

 

“Well, what about you?” Bellamy shoots back with a smirk. “You seem awfully curious about Lexa…”

 

“Can you blame me?!” Clarke fires back, “She’s pretty-“

 

“ _Incredible_?” Bellamy finishes for her, “you’re not the only one who thinks so. Half of our crowd is in _love_ with her.”

 

 _Of course_ , Clarke thinks to herself, even without knowing about her incredible accomplishments, Lexa seemed to have a special _allure_ that captivated everyone around her. Clarke wondered why she felt the need to fight for fun, and in such an environment.

 

Bellamy seemed to read her thoughts, “People have different ways of letting off some steam. Here, you get to prove yourself without the bureaucracy, red tape and notoriety that comes with amateur and professional boxing leagues.”

 

“ _Different_ is right,” Clarke chuckles, “I’m sure it doesn’t hurt that girls are _fawning_ all over her.”

 

“Jealous?”

 

“Psssh,” Clarke rolls her eyes, “as if.”

 

Bellamy guffaws and walks with her back towards the medical office. As she opens the door to head back inside, Bellamy holds the door open before she can close it and leans towards her.

 

“You know…” He says slowly a grin creeping back onto his face, “Lexa came over an hour or so ago and thanked me for recommending you. She’s never commented on any of my hires before.”

 

Clarke doesn’t know how to respond and hums in response.

 

“I think she _likes_ you,” he continues giving her a cheeky wink, “I’ve known Lexa for a few years now and I’ve _never_ seen her show even the _slightest_ interest in anyone.”

 

“I think you’re reading into things a little Bell.” Clarke rolls her eyes.

 

“ _Maybe_ ,” he says with an obnoxiously sweet drawl, “but you haven’t dated anyone in a while _princess_ and I think a little lovin’ would help you loosen up a little.”

 

“Bellamy!” Clarke shrieks at him, shocked and appalled at his utter lack of decorum.

 

“What?” His chuckle now evolving into a full-throated laugh. “Oh come on Clarke, everyone knows you having gotten any in awhile and it’s pretty obvious that your… _Frustration_ is the reason you’ve had a giant stick up your –.”

 

“ _GOODBYE_ BELLAMY,” Clarke says loudly, cutting him off and slamming the door in his face. She leans against it and covers her face in her hands, desperately trying to block out images of a naked Lexa, towering over her in bed, covered in glistening sweat that accentuates every-

 

“You don’t want to turn into your _mother_!” Bellamy yells from the other side of the door, still cackling.

 

_Fucking Bellamy._

 

 ***

 

An hour later, as the sounds outside the medical office grow louder, Clarke opens the door to witness scores of spectators shuffle into Grounder Hall, most hurrying to secure front row seats to the fight. The fighters are nowhere to be seen, likely still in their lockers rooms, preparing for their bouts, but Clarke spots Bellamy, Octavia, Murphy and a few others ringside. The entire place is bustling with bright lights and sound checks, staff hurrying to have everything in place before the end of the hour.

 

Octavia spots her and raises her hand in a wave. Next to her is a tall, attractive man with a shaved head whom Clarke instantly recognizes as Octavia’s new boyfriend. He’s dressed in what is obviously a referee’s attire: a white oxford shirt and all black bow tie, slacks and shoes.

 

“Clarke, this is my boyfriend Lincoln,” Octavia says excitedly, arms tightly wrapped around her boyfriend's waist.

 

Lincoln smiles and extends his hand which Clarke reaches out to shake, “Nice to meet you Clarke.”

 

“Likewise,” Clarke replies with grin, “Octavia talks about you a lot.”

 

“All good things I hope,” He grins back.

 

“Very good things,” Octavia interjects, wiggling her eyebrows and Clarke rolls her eyes.

 

“Some things I wish she’s keep to herself to be honest.”

 

Bellamy calls Lincoln over to the center of the ring and he excuses himself before he jogs away. Clarke elbows Octavia in her side, smiling.

 

“He seems nice.”

 

“I think I love him,” Octavia replies, her eyes still on her boyfriend. Clarke just nods, happy for her friend but her thoughts elsewhere. She still feels uncomfortable with Lexa and Finn’s matchup, despite Bellamy’s reassurance.

 

An hour later, the lights in the arena dim as the ones above the boxing ring are turned on. People shuffle to their seats from the bar and restrooms as Bellamy enters the raised platform and holds up a microphone.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Underground Heroes fight number 11! Are you ready?” He yells as the crowd roars in response.

 

“Tonight, we are going to witness three spectacular fights. But first, the man in charge of the night, our referee Lincoln Forrester is a man as respected for his skill as his knowledge of the sport. We are proud to have the best referee in the business! Let's give him a hand guys.”

 

Beside her, Octavia claps and hoots and Clarke can’t help but join her.

 

“Our judges for tonight are equally as renowned. Indra Pine reigned as the lightweight champion of the world until her retirement five years ago. Her legacy as a boxing legend is as unquestionable as her ability as a judge. Gustus Larch and Tristan Alder, both veterans and retired pro boxers with impressive records, join her in judging our fighters accurately and fairly. Let’s give them a round of applause!”

 

Clarke looks over to the judges’ table where an older woman sits between two enormous men. The three judges raised their hands in acknowledgment to the ground, though their expressions remain stern and focused.

 

Bellamy continues with the introductions, “And now for our fighters! First, we have two newcomers in the ring, fighting at flyweight. Jasper Jordan is a young kid, fresh out of high school and ready to prove himself to all of you. He’s fighting Monty Green, his best friend who is just as eager to win. Which one gets their name on our wall of winners?” Bellamy gestures to the far wall, where overhead lights shine on a large plaque of names that Clarke hasn’t noticed until now.

 

“Next, we have two of our best fighters vying for a shot at a lightweight title. Anya Forrester, one of our fastest fighters, has the best straight left we’ve ever seen here at Grounder Hall. She’s fighting another favorite, Raven Reyes, a knockout artist with one of the toughest chins I’ve ever seen! The books are pretty even on this one folks. It’ll be a fight to remember for a long time!” The sea of spectators roar and Clarke notices makeshift signs for each of the women scattered in the rows of seats around the ring.

 

“And finally, for our headliner of the night, Underground Heroes' very own Lexa Woods, fighting at catch weight against our welterweight champion, Finn Collins for the welterweight championship title. It’s a matchup we’ve been waiting to see for a while!” He yells and the crowded responds in turn.

 

“We all saw Finn call out Lexa after her last fight with former welterweight champion Nathan Miller, who we all know was the only one that has bested Finn, many years ago.” Some in the crowd boo in response while there seem to be competing chants of “Kill him Lexa” and “Knock her out” rising above the noise of the general crowd.

 

“And we all know the our Lexa never backs down from a fight. She vowed to continue fighting despite only being off her feet for three weeks after suffering a broken rib during her last fight with Roan Pagos. You are all in for a show tonight folks! Let’s get ready to start it off! Bring in the first fighters!”

 

The locker room doors in the back of the hall open up and both Jasper and Monty emerge, each accompanied by a friend. Jasper wears a ridiculous gold robe and dances his way towards the raised platform in the center of the room while Monty walks steadily, eyes trained on the ring.

 

The fight is over quicker than it started in the first round as Monty dodges a few sloppy punches thrown by Jasper to land one solid right hook right into the scrawny boy’s stomach, effectively knocking him off his feet. He is so winded that he fails to make the count in time and Monty is declared the winner of the fight.

 

Clarke is brought into the ring to quickly but finds Jasper struggling to sit up. Monty hovers over them worriedly as Clarke checks Jasper for signs of fractures and other serious injuries. She asks him to follow a few commands, “life your right leg,” and “breath in and out deeply for me” before nodding to two of the EMTs to step into the ring to assist her in taking Jasper to the medical office to lay down and rest. She signals to Bellamy to continue and he raises his mic to introduce the next bout of the night. 

 

As she helps Jasper limp towards the medical office, Clarke notices that there are many more people just entering Grounder Hall. Surveilling the entire arena, she estimates that around a thousand people are attending, with all seats filled leaving many standing.

 

When she returns ringside, Bellamy is reading out each fighter’s stats. Anya comes in at one hundred and thirty two pounds, a height of five-foot-eight and reach of seventy inches. Raven weighs a little less at one hundred and thirty pounds, standing at five-foot-five, with a reach of sixty seven inches. Clarke doesn’t know very much about the sport, but is certain the difference in height and reach will be a strong advantage for Anya.

 

Both women enter the ring, their trainers remaining in their designated corner. Anya first, stopping near the edge of the ring to remove her bright blue gown to reveal purple trunks and black sports bra underneath. Her long face is stern, focused and her hair now is braided tightly to her skull.

 

Raven, by comparison, is shorter but not smaller by any means. She looks powerful and more durable than her opponent. Her trainer whispers in her ear before removing her robe, unveiling red and white boxing trunks and matching sports bra. Her hair is solid black in a French braid that extended below the nape of her neck. The crowd whistles and hoots loudly for her, and unlike Anya, she waves back at them as she bounces from foot to foot, a lazy smile on her face. Her eyes, however, are fixed intently on her opponent and Clarke is certain that this fight will be nothing like the previous one.

 

The bell dings and both women dance towards each other, gloves up and elbows in. Anya strikes first; throwing a straight right towards the body but fails to connect. The first round ends with Raven not having thrown a single punch and Anya landing none, just missing by a hair each time. Raven is clearly quicker, but Anya’s height and reach make it difficult for her to get close.

 

The next few rounds are the same with neither fighter really connecting with the other. Octavia leans over and whispers, “I thought this was supposed to be exciting.” Clarke, though, is grateful that no one has gotten hurt yet.

 

The turning point comes in the sixth round, when Anya throws another straight jab, this time with her left and Raven shifts slightly to counter it with a punch, a straight left that only just grazes off Anya’s shoulder but it’s enough to temporarily throw Anya off balance. Encouraged, Raven descends into her with a flurry of punches, backing Anya up against the ropes as she tries to block the assault. Raven is able to land the next few blows, sneaking home a right cross to the stomach and rips a hook to the upper torso before Anya wraps her arm around her, forcing her into a clinch.

Lincoln jumps in between them to move them apart. When he gestures for them to resume, Raven charges at Anya, intent on continuing her earlier onslaught. This time however, Anya shifts her rear foot forward and feints while crouching low. Raven’s jab swings high and misses and Anya, taking advantage of Raven's temporary loss of balance, throws a left cross that connects between Raven’s breasts, forcefully knocking her off her feet and sending her straight to the canvas in the closing seconds of the round.

 

Raven’s up and on her feet in a matter of seconds but she knows the knockdown cost her two points and she’s losing this fight. She tries to win them back over the next few rounds by knocking Anya down but the older woman is too tall, arms too long, and Raven can’t get close.

 

The bell rings, signaling the end of the tenth and final round. There are spent hugs and many handshakes and after the scores are totaled, both women return to the center of the ring to listen to the verdict. Bellamy makes a few comments about the quality of the match and Lincoln moves forward, taking both women’s hands in his. The judges’ scores are unanimous, ninety five to ninety three, and Lincoln raises Anya’s left arm in the air to celebrate her victory. A close fight, even with Raven’s knockdown and the two women hug once more. Raven’s mouth folds in on itself and she blinks back tears while rushing to get down from the ring. Anya catches her arm before she can leave and whispers in her ear. Clarke catches the small smile on Raven’s face in response before Anya lets her go.

 

Clarke stops Raven before she gets too far and checks for injuries. When she’s satisfied, she looks Raven in the eyes, taking both hands into her own and tells her she did a great job.

 

“Not good enough,” Raven replies with a weak smile and sad eyes.

 

“It was a close fight,” Clarke insists, “even a boxing _illiterate_ like me could see that.”

 

“Thanks doc,” Raven says, “I’ll catch you later. I gotta hang around for the next fight.”

 

The crowd is rowdier now, most people already several drinks in, and somehow even it's even larger than before. There are chants for Finn, but they are drowned out by the far louder cries for Lexa as both fighters make their way down to the ring. Bellamy reads both Lexa’s and Finn’s stats out and Clarke’s chest tightens again in fear when she hears just how difference in size the two are.

 

Lexa is five-foot-seven, one hundred and twenty six pounds pounds with a reach of sixty-eight inches. Finn is five-foot-eight, one hundred and fifty one pounds with a reach of sixty-nine inches.

 

Lexa walks down the aisle towards the ring, closely followed by two others, a thin bald man with a sunken face and solemn expression and a younger boy, no older than sixteen. She’s wearing a black silk robe and when she removes it and hands it to her older companion, she reveals matching black trunks and sport bra. Her hair is frizzy, pulled back into a messy bun. She is light on her feet as she paces the canvas like a jaguar - eyes focused, fierce, and hungry. Her introduction, as Finn joins her in the ring, is just as impressive.

 

“In the corner to my right, the challenger, wearing black – coming in at a catchweight of one hundred and twenty eight pounds, undefeated in thirty four fights, sixteen of them knockouts, twelve of them consecutive, the second highest number currently in the league, the current bantamweight champion and Underground Heroes very owner fighter, Lexa Woods!” At the mention of her name, Lexa raises her gloved hand modestly before resuming her light dance, shifting her weight from her heels to the balls of her feet in a barely susceptible bounce.

 

“In the far corner, wearing green and white trunks, weighing one hundred and fifty pounds, with an impression record of twenty nine wins, one loss, the current welterweight champion in the league, Finn Collins!” Finn looks relaxed and confident and puts on a display of his hand speed as many in the crowd cheer at the mention of his name.

 

Lincoln motions for both fighters to step towards the center of the ring. Lexa turns her head slightly and catches Clark eye for a split second before turning back towards Finn. The two fighters tap gloves and return to their corners.

 

The bell rings and Finn launches forward, boxing Lexa as though he considers her an amateur. He jabs at her torso several times and Lexa blocks the majority of the shots, conceding a few. Finn throws out a triple combination that backs Lexa into the corner, seeming to with her. He smiles as he dishes another left to right combo. Clarke fears she was right all along about the unequal matchup. _Lexa looks badly outclassed._

 

It happens suddenly. Clarke blinks and the crowd roars as Finn is knocked off his feet. Lincoln pushes Lexa towards her corner as Finn slowly gets up, wearing an expression of disbelief. 

 

The fight resumes and this time it is Lexa who charges, first with an uppercut to the clavicle and next with brutal combinations to the ribs. The bell sounds the end of the first round and both fighters return to their corners. Lexa catches Clarke’s eyes again and this time there a not-so subtle lift in the corner of her mouth. Clarke shakes her head in astonishment and grins back.

 

_I'll be damned._

 

The next two rounds continue in Lexa’s favor. Clarke’s certain Finn won’t last much longer until he catches Lexa in the chest during the fourth round and the old cut on her chest, below her collarbone, opens up and begins to bleed profusely.

 

Clarke raises her hand, signally for Bellamy to pause the fight, and slides into the ring, rushing over to Lexa’s corner. She examines the gash and raises her eyes to meet Lexa's.

 

“You can’t,” Lexa says firmly, “I’m not risking a loss.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Clarke says softly, “this needs stitches.”

 

“Titus!” Lexa yells at her trainer, who rushes forward with cold metal enswell and presses it against the laceration. He brings out several bottles, with the words “Adrenaline Chloride”, “Aventine” and “Thrombin” written on them. Clarke grabs his wrist before he is able to apply the swab, “What is this?” She demands.

 

“Coagulant,” Lexa replies, “It’ll stop the bleeding.”

 

“Not if you get hit in the same spot again,” Clarke shakes her head, “Lexa, I’m sorry but-“

 

“One round.”

 

“Excuse me?” Clarke asks.

 

“Give me _one more round_. This one has ten seconds left in it. If I don’t knock him out in the next round, I promise to concede the fight.”

 

Clarke looks at her incredulously, “Lexa, you’re good, I’ll give you that but his body is twice as big as-“

 

“I said I would concede in another round so there shouldn't be a problem _right_?” Clarke is about to deny her again, when Lexa whispers, “ _Please_ ,” and reaches out to place a gloved hand over hers. “I can _do_ this.”

 

The words dry up in Clarke's throat and she swallows them back as she gathers herself.

 

_How can a complete stranger have so much power over me?_

 

Clarke finally nods, “One round. _That’s it._ When it ends, I’m calling off the fight.”

 

Lexa's trainer finishes cleaning up the wound, _somehow_  managing to stop the bleeding, and climbs out of the ring. Lexa stands up, and shakes her arms and legs, moving her legs a little in eager anticipation to begin. She turns to Clarke and gives her a small smile, “Thank you.”

 

Clarke sighs and slips out of the ring, nodding towards Bellamy when he looks over at her questioningly.

 

The fight resumes but little happens in the ten or so seconds before the bell rings and the fourth round ends. Octavia leans over, “What did the bitch say to scare you from doing your job?”

 

Clarke shrugs, “She’s not a bitch actually. She’s just a little… _Different_.” _That word again._

 

“You can say _that_ again.”

 

“She just really enjoys the sport,” Clarke replies, trying to sound nonchalant but it's useless because Octavia’s eyes flash and a cheeky smile appears on her face. _Oh god, she looks just like her brother._

 

“You like her.”

 

“ _I do not_.”

 

“You _totally_ do,” Octavia laughs, “Clarke has a _crush_.”

 

“Shut up and let me do my job Octavia,” Clarke rolls her eyes and the bell signals the fifth (and final) round.

 

Instead of resuming her previous offensive, Lexa hangs back and dances a few feet from her corner. Finn approaches slowly but in a few seconds, begins his onslaught, connecting a few times with Lexa’s shoulder and stomach. Another straight right slams into her cut and it begins to bleed again. Clarke is moments away from calling the fight off, despite her promise to wait, when Lexa feints right and Finn bites. She cuts the ring off, and Finn is suddenly on the ropes.

 

It happens so quickly that Clarke doesn't realize what is happening until it's over. Lexa launches a left hook just under Finn’s ribs and he collapses onto the canvas, curling into a fetal position and crying out loud while writhing in agony.

 

“ _Clarke!_ ” Bellamy yells, shaking her from her stupor and she rushes into the ring to exam the fallen fighter. He’s lucid and breathing, though heavily and erratically.

 

“Finn,” Clarke says softly, “calm down. Control your breathing. It’s okay, nice and slow.”

 

Bellamy approaches, “He got caught clean with a _fucking_ liver shot.”

 

Clarke motions at the two EMT’s waiting on the side to bring the stretcher. “He’ll be okay. He likely bruised his ribs. He just needs to sleep it off.”

 

“I’ll take him home,” Clarke looks up and finds Raven standing over her, “my idiot _boyfriend_ , my problem.”

 

Clarke hesitates but relents, “Watch him and check if his abdomen is hard or if there is any excessive swelling. If you’re not sure, call me and I’ll come over. Bellamy will send over my contact information. Otherwise if he's not feeling better by the morning, take him to the hospital.” Raven nods and takes one of Finn's arms with the help of the EMTs. Clarke overhears her telling Finn he should have never bet on himself and swallows a laugh.

 

She turns to Lexa, whose lips tug upwards ever so slightly. The cut below her collarbone is significantly worse and oozing blood. Lincoln steps forward and raises Lexa's arm, declaring her winner and new welterweight champion. The crowd cheers loudly and some fans manage to break through the security line to climb up onto the ring. They lift Lexa up on their shoulders, springing around the canvas to the rhythm of echoed chants of “Commander! Commander! Commander!”

 

Lexa grins down at Clarke who yells up at her, “You’ll need to go to the hospital and get stitches for that. I should’ve never let you continue.”

 

“Yes,” Lexa’s lips twitch, “you _should_ have.”

 

“You need to get that cut looked at.”

 

“They teach you to suture wounds in medical school, don’t they?” Lexa asks, trying to look solemn but her eyes, dancing with humor, betray her.

 

“Well, you have five minutes to _get down from there_ and into my office,” Clarke glares in response, “I have to be in the hospital for rounds in less than seven hours.”

 

*** 

 

It takes Lexa much longer than five minutes to make her way to the medical office and by the time she strolls through the door, still riding the high from her win, Clarke has laid out the necessary equipment in alphabetical order. A suture kit lays open on a metal tray table in front of the examination table, with an assortment of needles, saline, gauze and lignocaine.

 

She looks up to glance at the clock and sighs, “I said five minutes not fives hours. I’m going to look like a zombie at the hospital in a few hours.”

 

“ _Impossible_ ,” Lexa slurs and Clarke is sure she misheard her until she’s catches the sweet scent of…

 

“Are…Are you _drunk_?” She asks incredulously.

 

“Absolutely not,” Lexa replies and hops up onto the examination table, “I just had a celebratory drink.”

 

“Or _seven_ ,” Clarke rolls her eyes as Lexa struggles to stay upright, “you know I can’t give you any pain medication until you sober up.”

 

“Pain is good,” Lexa replies tilting her head back and closing her eyes, “pain means you’re still alive.”

 

“You are such a _weirdo_ ,” Clarke muses as she reaches forward to examine Lexa’s chest. The tissue around the laceration is mangled and the area around it contused and swollen. She’ll need to cut away the damaged skin before irrigating the wound.

 

“If you don’t want a nasty scar, I’d really recommend going to the hospital. My stitches are the best in my class but we only have silk linen sutures and the needles in this office are not-.”

 

“It’s fine _Clarke_ ,” Lexa holds up her hand and leans in a little too close, “Idon’tmindscars.” She says, her words tumbling much too quickly from her mouth and breath tickling Clarke’s face. Lexa’s eyes are glazed over and her cheeks flushed. Her face is littered with small cuts and bruises that have partially healed but none of them can disguise her beauty. She’s radiant tonight- cheeks flushed and hair tangled from the fight earlier, the shorter pieces falling around her face. Her lower lip juts out ever so slightly and Clarke can’t help staring at it a little longer than she should.

 

Lexa catches her staring and her lips quirk into a smile. She sits upright and peels off her sports brain before leaning back, shamefully exposing petite, round, _perfect_ breasts similarly littered with cuts and small bruises.

 

_I’m gay. I’m so so gay._

 

“Are going to fix me up anytime soon?” Lexa teases and Clarke is certain the other woman can _feel_ the warmth from her blushing cheeks.

 

Clarke dons latex gloves uses her foot to pull a footstool closer to her to sits down.

 

Lexa watches her thoughtfully as she begins by using a syringe with a splash cover to irrigate the wound with a saline solution. She doesn’t make a sound after when Clarke uses forceps to remove debris and devitalized tissue in and around the laceration.

 

“You’re pretty tough,” Clarke smiles, keeping her eyes on her efforts, “I’m sure this isn’t comfortable without any anesthesia.”

 

She feels Lexa’s breath on her face when she answers. “I have a good distraction.”

 

 _She wouldn’t be saying this without the alcohol_. Still, Clarke can’t help but flirt back.

 

“And what distraction is that?” She can’t help the smile on her face and feels Lexa’s eyes on her. _I shouldn’t be doing this. She’s my patient and my boss. This isn’t like me at all._

 

“You. You’re a distraction.”

 

Clarke struggles to meet Lexa’s eyes. They are dark, hazy through her lashes and her skin feels warm under her gloved fingertips. Her breath catches in her throat as something she hasn’t felt in a _long time_ settles in the pit of her stomach.

 

“I almost got caught a few times during the fight because I was busy looking at _you_ ,” Lexa continues.

 

Clarke lowers her gaze to her hands and sets down the syringe, picking up the needle holder with her left hand and forceps with her right. Clarke secures the suture with a knot and begins to suture the wound, pausing ever so often to look up at and check on Lexa. Lexa offers her a gentle reassuring smile each time and Clarke feels her heart leap in response. _I'm acting like a lovesick teenager. What's wrong with me?_

 

She uses tissue adhesives to close the wound and dress it before finally covering it with a large bandage and applying gentle pressure to make sure it holds.

 

Satisfied, she leans away and takes off her gloves, disposing of them in the trash underneath her feet.

 

“All done,” She says and allows herself a weak smile. “Don’t shower for forty-eight hours. If you need to wash up, use a washcloth and gently clean the area around it. You’ll need to go to the hospital to replace the bandage in a few days.”

 

“I’ll come back here to do that. Just let me know when you’re available.”

 

Clarke sighs, “I won’t have time off from work that soon.”

 

“Then I'll wait.”

 

“That won’t do,” Clarke frowns, “maybe you can come by the hospital. I can take care of you there.”

 

“Okay,” Lexa smiles, “That works for me.”

 

Clarke studies her for a moment before standing up and walking over to her desk. She writes down her full name, number and the name and address her hospital before walking back and handing it to Lexa, who stands up to take it from her.

 

“Here, just text me and I’ll let you know when is a good time to swing by,” She says a little quickly because Lexa is giving her a lopsided smile and standing too close. Clarke’s cheeks still feel incredibly warm from blushing and she knows that she needs to _leave_ before she does something stupid.

 

Lexa doesn’t seem to take the hint and instead moves closer.

 

“Thank you _doctor,”_ she husks and Clarke feels her inhibitions start to slip away before the door jerks open loudly. Clarke snaps her head around to find Anya standing in the doorway, clearly drunk.

 

“Lexa, let’s go,” she yells loudly, “Bellamy’s needs us out so he can lock up and I’m read to get laid.”

 

Lexa stares back at her with an annoyed expression on her face.

 

_Saved by a drunk scarecrow._

 

Bellamy shows up at the doorway and waves, “Clarke, O got a ride home with Lincoln. Do you need me to drop you off?”

 

Clarke’s ready to respond but Lexa answers for her.

 

“I’ll give her a ride. My driver’s waiting outside.”

 

Bellamy nods, satisfied, “Great. Let’s get moving guys, I’m tired and I want to go home.”

 

The ride home is surprisingly quiet. Lexa sits beside her, seemingly lost in her drunken thoughts and doesn't look over once. Clarke leans back into the car seat and closes her eyes, exhausted from the events of the day. She doesn’t realize she’s fallen asleep until she feels herself being gently shaken and a soft voice next to her whispers, “Clarke. Wake up, we’re outside your building.” She slowly opens her eyes, and looks up at Lexa who is watching her with yet another one of her unreadable expressions.

 

Clarke lifts herself off the car seat, stretching lightly. She feels something cold and wet on her chin and is horrified when she realizes she has been drooling a little in her sleep.

 

Lexa is up and out of the car already, holding the side door open for her. “I’ll walk you to your door,” She says softly.

 

They walk quietly towards Clarke’s apartment build and stop outside the door while Clarke looks for her keys. When she finds them, she looks back up and Lexa’s looking away, studying the bushes surrounding her building.

 

“Well,” Clarke clears her throat, “goodnight.”

 

“Good night,” Lexa replies bruskly, abruptly turning away to walk back towards her car and gets inside.

 

Clarke pauses for another moment before putting her key in the lock and opening the front door of her apartment building. Inside the foyer, she turns around and watches as Lexa's car starts to slowly pull away.

 

She’s _disappointed_ and angry with herself for feeling so. She climbs up the four flights of stairs to her apartment and unlocks the door. Octavia isn’t home and likely won't be for hours. Clarke goes into her bedroom and sets her bag on the desk before proceeding to strip down completely and throw herself on the bed.

 

Her phone buzzes in her bag but she’s too tired to get up to check it, feeling sleep overtake her once more.

 

In the morning, while she brushes her teeth, she checks her phone. There’s an unread message from an unknown number.

 

_Even superheroes get banged up._

_Thank you for helping me._

_Sweet dreams._

_\- Lexa_

 

Clarke can’t help the large smile that creeps on her face as she types a response.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone. This chapter has been written for a while but I went back and added a few things, namely Bellamy and Clarke's fun little conversation about Lexa's accomplishments and changing the outcome of Jasper and Monty's bout (I had them both giving up after a few rounds of boxing because they were too tired and sore to continue but I couldn't resist the idea of sweet Monty knocking the daylight out of Jasper!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter as much as I did writing it! A huge thanks to @regalwanderer for writing the fight scenes. I think she enjoyed writing them a little too much because she's already bombarding me with ideas for fights in future chapters. She's also been my go-to for all things boxing and medicine related so please head over to her tumblr and let her know that she's done a wonderful job!
> 
> As always, feedback and kudos keep me motivated to write more. Come yell at me on my tumblr @ baalrane and check out some complimentary material I post on the underground boxing au clexa universe!
> 
> Thank you again for reading and see you next chapter!

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! Thank you very much for reading my story. This is my first fic so please not judge me too harshly. I would love feedback because I want to learn to write better and it would be nice to hear if anyone enjoyed this story. It would be nice to have a beta for this, as subsequent chapters will be just as long or longer and it will be difficult to edit by myself.


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